The Story of Us
by kelly4
Summary: A series of drabbles about Smallville's Clark and Lois.  Not in order, just bits of their lives together.
1. The Vaccuum of Time

**September 25, 2010**

Six years is a long time to know someone.

Not just as an acquaintance, but as a part of your life pretty much every day.

Six years since the day she'd wrapped his naked body in a red blanket and taken him to the hospital after finding him naked in a cornfield. After she'd, fittingly, crashed into his life.

He'd had so many relationships in his life that had ended too soon. If you had asked him six years ago, he'd have told you that there wasn't any way they'd last six days knowing each other, let alone six years.

But they had.

Six years of teasing. Busting his chops. Kicking him in the ass when needed (and there were times over the past six years he'd definitely needed it and she'd been only too happy to oblige).

Six years of listening in the way only she could. Of being there for him even when she didn't know the entire reason why he needed her shoulder to lean on or to hear her unfailingly spot – on advice gleaned from years of having to depend only on herself.

Six years of watching her let her defenses down around him, watching her realize that just as she was his support, he could be hers. She just had to let him.

The dynamics had changed over the years, from wary investigative partners to secret friends to confidantes to best friends to work partners, and finally, to opening their respective eyes to the truth that had been in front of them all along, only they'd been too blind or stubborn to see it.

The last year of the six had been filled with longing glances, secret smiles, surprise kisses and not so surprise kisses. Feeling the warmth of her hand in his, the softness of her hair as his fingers idly lost themselves in it as they had one of their movie nights. It had been filled with the bumps, the adjustments of moving from friendship to love, knowing that this? This was the one.

Six years. Two thousand one hundred ninety one days. A long time to know someone, to have her in your life.

But in that moment, standing in his loft, watching her retreating form fade from his view, struggling to force breaths through his constricted throat, the realization that he'd just watched her leave him for the last time because the next time someone left, it would be him, leaving this Earth with his fellow Kandorians forever, it felt like the six years she'd been in his life had been sucked into the vacuum of time and reduced to mere seconds.


	2. Look Beyond

**A/N - Thank you for all the feedback! This little drabble was written before Luthor came out, so pretty much AU at this point.**

She didn't think she'd ever get tired of waking up to the feel of those warm, strong arms around her.

Blinking her eyes a few times, adjusting to the annoyingly bright early morning sunlight that streamed into the room, Lois stroked his forearm gently, snuggling closer to him.

No. She would never get tired of this.

She turned in his arms, slowly, not wanting to wake him. He'd still been out on patrol when she'd finally torn herself away from her laptop and gone to bed. He'd still been gone when she woke for a water run at around 4:15, so it had been a late night for him. And while he didn't need as much sleep as everyone else, she still wanted to give him a few extra minutes before they had to face the day.

Brushing back the hair that had fallen softly over his forehead, she bit her lip. It just wasn't normal that the man was as beautiful as he was, even in sleep.

The few minutes she'd planned on giving him turned into about one now that she'd faced him. Leaning into him, she brushed her lips gently against his. She giggled softly when she felt his arms tighten around her, a sigh escaping his lips.

Running a finger across his lips, she smiled as they pursed slightly, as if to kiss her fingertip. She moved in, taking his top lip between her own, sucking softly. Within seconds, she felt him respond, his fingers curling against her back, pressing her close to him.

She pulled back, watching as he lazily opened his eyes.

"Good morning."

His eyes opened wider as he took her in, staring at her. A few moments later, he reached up, the back of his hand gently stroking her cheek.

"Lois?"

She quirked an eyebrow.

"You were expecting someone else?" she asked in an amused tone.

He blinked a few times.

"Wow, rough night Clark?"

He just looked at her, confusion apparent in his eyes. It seemed to melt away, though, as his gaze drifted over her face, replaced with another emotion entirely.

One that involved his hand creeping under the bottom of her tank top.

"And, there we go. The fog has lifted and we can now resume our regularly scheduled wake up call," she said with a grin, her own hands drifting up to his shoulders. He licked his lips, his free hand shoving the blanket covering them back slightly, his gaze flicking down to the top edge of her tank top, his fingers following soon after, tracing teasingly along her skin.

"Regularly scheduled, huh?" he asked, almost distractedly.

She narrowed her eyes for a moment, the comment catching her off guard a bit. Before she had time to think too deeply on it, however, she felt his lips against her neck and all attempts at rational thought faded into oblivion.

Tilting her head back, she tangled her hand in his soft, black hair.

"Damn, I've missed you, Lois," he whispered hotly before gently capturing her lobe in his teeth, tugging softly.

She opened her eyes at that, swallowing thickly at the sensation – he knew she loved when he did that – attempting to navigate her way through the haze of desire that had overtaken her.

She placed her hands on his face, lifting it slightly so he was looking at her.

"You just saw me last night," she said, her thumb stroking his cheek. "You know, the movie night that ended up having absolutely nothing to do with watching any movies? It's not like you're deprived, Smallville," she finished, a small smile playing on her lips.

His eyes wandered to her lips.

"Right," he said absently. "Last night."

Her heart picked up speed at that, only not from the seductiveness of his voice or the way his eyes drank her in as if he were a starving man presented with a Thanksgiving feast.

Something was…off.

She opened her mouth to speak, but was quickly silenced by a finger pressed to her lips.

"I guess I just can't get enough of you, Miss Lane," he said, his voice laced with the promise of seduction as he ducked his head, pressing his lips insistently to hers.

Clark traced his tongue along her bottom lip, and her eyes fluttered shut as she groaned softly, opening up to him. His long fingers grasped her waist tightly, his weight pushing her back deep into her pillow.

She met him kiss for kiss, it registering deep in her mind that something was…different.

Clark was a passionate man; she'd learned that over the course of their relationship. His kisses, they were practically drugging in their effect on her. Deep, tender, full of all of the passion and control he kept so tightly reined in the rest of his waking hours.

But the way he was kissing her now?

Hard.

Almost bruising. With even a hint of desperation.

She heard a deep moan escape him as he continued his assault on her lips. Heard a tear as he apparently began to get frustrated at the cloth barrier that still lay between them.

Her hands flew up to his chest, pushing back.

No dice. He was the strongest man in the world after all.

She pushed harder, managing to mumble "Clark" and turn her head to the side slightly. That seemed to get his attention as he pulled back.

"What?" he asked, his breathing heavy.

She searched his face. His eyes.

Nothing different. The face that looked back at her, eyes lit with desire, was of the man she loved more than she could imagine ever loving anyone.

"Lois? As gorgeous as you are, I'd much rather being _doing_ than looking," he said, a cocky grin tugging at his lips as he leaned down, intent on kissing her senseless again.

To no avail, as Lois braced her hands between them, keeping him back.

A whispered voice was nagging at her, pleading with her to look beyond the face, the voice she knew so well.

To look deeper.

And suddenly it hit her.

Kryptonite. He'd told her about the rainbow of colors and how they each affected him.

She'd never actually experienced it before, that she personally remembered anyway, but if she had to guess, she'd chalk this behavior up to the red version.

He raised an eyebrow at her questioningly, a flash of impatience in his eyes.

"Did …anything happen last night?"

"No," he answered, moving back slightly and then lowering his head, planting kisses along the edge of her top.

"I'm serious, Clark," she said, gently stroking his hair, not wanting to set him off since from what she'd been told, Clark on red kryptonite had a very short temper. "Any encounters with anything, well, red?"

"Red?" he mumbled, moving his attention to her neck, nipping at her skin lightly. "Can't say that I did. But I always did love you in red."

Despite the fact that she thought her heart was about to rip through her chest, she managed to pull off a slightly breathless giggle, playing along the best she could while she figured out what the hell was going on with him.

Lois tugged on his hair lightly, getting his attention. She pulled his head down to hers, hearing him moan his approval as their lips collided again. She pushed forward, managing to flip them over. Pulling back from the kiss, she sat up, running light fingertips down his chest.

"Red, huh? You and your primary colors," she said, hoping like hell her voice was coming out more relaxed than she was actually feeling.

His hands moved to her thighs, squeezing slightly. "Don't you remember the last time you wore red for me?" he asked, his tongue snaking out to wet his bottom lip as his eyes roamed hungrily over her. "That red baby doll nightie? I think it lasted two minutes before it was in shreds on my bedroom floor," he said, sitting up and moving his hands to start lifting off her tank top.

Her breathing picked up, barely feeling the kisses he pressed along her jaw.

A wave of nausea swept through her.

_This isn't Clark…_

The words screamed repeatedly in her mind.

Rationally, well, as rationally as she could think at the moment, she knew it was a crazy thought. It looked like Clark. It sounded like Clark. It smelled like Clark. He answered to Clark. He clearly knew her. Well.

It was impossible.

And yet, she'd lived in Smallville long enough to know that the impossible was, well, possible.

She took a deep breath, closing her eyes for a moment, as a new wave of anxiety flooded her.

If this wasn't Clark, where was he?

Lois exhaled sharply, feeling his lips moving down her now bare chest, not realizing he'd torn off her top at some point during her shocked musings.

"Um, Cl.. Clark?" she managed to choke out, pushing against his chest. "I'm sorry, I just remembered…I have to meet with a source this morning."

She felt his arms press her to him before he effortlessly flipped her onto her back, effectively trapping her beneath him.

"Cancel," he ordered, grabbing one hand and holding it above her head, intertwining their fingers.

"I can't."

He bowed his head, nuzzling her ear.

"I'm not letting you go again," she heard him whisper.

She blinked quickly, bewildered by the comment. Recovering, she turned her face toward him, pressing a kiss to his lips.

"I'll make it up to you," she said softly, praying she sounded seductive enough to entice him to let her go for now with the promise of later. "Maybe I'll even hunt down a new red baby doll for you, okay?"

He rolled onto his back, clearly frustrated. Rubbing his eyes roughly, his hands fell to his sides.

Then suddenly he propped himself up on his elbows, his eyebrows furrowed as he gazed around the room, his eyes moving from object to object, taking them in.

As if he'd never seen them before.

She watched him closely, plastering a smile on her face when he turned to look at her.

"Uh, yeah. Sure. You go do what you gotta do."

Lois simply nodded, hopping out of the bed quickly and snatching up one of Clark's flannels draped on the back of the chair and quickly putting it on. Opening the bottom dresser drawer, a pair of jeans were flung over her arm. She snatched her phone off the nightstand and walked toward the door. As she got to the foot of the bed, she felt his large hand wrap around her wrist.

"But," he said, turning her toward him, his other hand tangling in her hair, "I'm holding you to your promise."

And planted a hard kiss against her lips, his teeth tugging slightly at her bottom lip as he pulled away.

She managed a weak smile. "Right," she said, hoping he took the breathlessness in her voice for desire and not the panic that escalating inside her. "Later."

Lois pulled her arm from his grasp and quickly left the room. She raced downstairs, stopping at the bottom to pull on her jeans. Grabbing her keys, she dialed Clark's cell phone, her stomach dropping when the mechanical voice of an operator told her that the number she had dialed was no longer in service.

She slid into the front seat of her car, quickly typing out two texts – one to Oliver and one to Tess, before slipping her keys into the ignition to head for Watchtower.

_Emergency. Need to talk to you ASAP._


	3. Based on a Dream

**A/N: Thank you for the feedback on the first drabble! I just want to remind all the readers that these are NOT connected drabbles though, for the most part, so each is a self-contained story in the lives of Clark and Lois. This one is a bit of an exception, as this is the Luthor drabble from Clark Luthor's POV.**

* * *

><p>The bright sunlight tried desperately to rouse him from sleep. He fuzzily registered the soft warmth curled into him, not an abnormal occurrence on any given morning.<p>

It occurred to him, somewhere in the state between asleep and awake, that he should feel another body next to him, but gentle fingers brushing his hair from his forehead chased that thought from his mind.

Not a move usually made by the women he brought home for one nighters.

A soft brush of lips against his. Almost instinctively, his arms tightened around the woman pressed against him.

Definitely not a bad way to wake up.

A giggle reached his ears. A fingertip tenderly brushed his lips. Then the warmth of her mouth surrounding his top lip. He curled his fingers against her back, returning the kiss as he stepped fully into the waking world.

He ran his tongue along her bottom lip, pulling her closer. The scent of sweet vanilla mixed with the spiciness of cinnamon suddenly assaulted his senses. His heart sped up as a lock of her hair brushed his cheek.

Beyond a shadow of a doubt, Clark knew, without opening his eyes, who the woman was in his arms.

She pulled back from him. He swallowed, the desire to see her face warring with the desire to prolong the dream he found himself having.

Giving in, he slowly opened his eyes, praying that her face wouldn't morph into the visage of whoever he'd brought home last night.

"Good morning."

He knew he was staring, her voice washing over him along with a peace that only she seemed to provide him.

He'd had this dream before. So many times. Her lying in his arms. Smiling at him. Her lips caressing his.

Every fantasy he had, every woman with long, dark hair he brought back to the mansion, it was all based on a dream. This dream.

The dream of her. Of what he'd given up, of what he could never freely admit to anyone but himself that he wanted back.

Lifting his hand, he gently stroked her cheek, the thrill at feeling her warm skin beneath his fingers racing through his veins.

"Lois?"

She quirked an eyebrow.

"You were expecting someone else?" she asked, and he picked up on her teasing tone.

Not anger. Not sadness. Not hurt. Not disappointment.

No, it was just like she'd been, before he'd chosen the path he had. Even if it hadn't entirely been _his_ choice. Very little was when one had to answer to Lionel Luthor as his father.

He blinked a few times, waiting for her to disappear like she normally did. His dreams, they always ended far too soon, and he was thrust back into the reality of pain and anger and hatred surrounding him. A part he'd grown accustomed too, he played it well and, if he were to be honest, it wasn't _all_ an act. The perks of being a feared Luthor son, he didn't dismiss that.

But there was a part of him that wished he could have the best of both worlds. The power of the Luthors, and the love of Lois Lane.

"Wow, rough night Clark?"

Confusion washed over him, unable to understand why her beautiful face wasn't evaporating before his eyes. His gaze moved down, taking in every inch of her while he could. Stopping at her hand, he felt a surge of relief as he noted the absence of a certain large diamond.

At least in his dreams, she was _his_. No blond billionaire pretty boys allowed.

His hand drifted down, fingertips pushing her tank top up so he could feel the warmth of her skin.

"And, there we go. The fog has lifted and we can now resume our regularly scheduled wake up call," she said with a grin, her hands moving up to his shoulders. He shoved the blanket covering them back slightly, his gaze flickering down to the top edge of her tank top, his fingers following soon after, tracing along her skin.

"Regularly scheduled, huh?" he asked, distracted with thoughts of where to touch her next.

He briefly noted the strange look that flashed in her eyes at his comment, but decided quickly not to pursue it. Talking was a waste of time, especially when he didn't know how long this particular fantasy would last.

Dipping his head, he pressed his mouth to the spot on her neck he knew drove her crazy. Feeling her move beneath him, tilting her head back slightly, his lips travelled a slow path to her ear. He felt her hand tangle in his hair, keeping him close to her.

"Damn, I've missed you, Lois," he whispered before taking her ear lobe between his teeth, gently biting at the soft skin, remembering well the breathy sighs that inevitably escaped her lips when he did that.

This time, however, he felt her hands on his face, pushing him back slightly.

"You just saw me last night," she said, her thumb stroking his cheek. "You know, the movie night that ended up having absolutely nothing to do with watching any movies? It's not like you're deprived, Smallville," she finished, a small smile playing on her lips, capturing his gaze.

So it was one of _those_ dreams. Sometimes, they consisted of hot, sweaty encounters in various places in town or in his bed.

Others? They had a life together. She looked at him like he was the best thing ever to happen to her. She spoke of normalcy and routines and dates and she smiled when she looked up from beneath him, their fingers intertwined as he lost himself in her over and over again.

And while the first kind was definitely pleasurable, this was the dream he treasured. A dream he would never realize, he knew, because of who he was and choices he'd made.

But in the hours he slept, he could escape to this fantasy world with her.

"Right," he said absently. "Last night."

He drank her in, every inch of exposed skin, wanting nothing more than to tear off her remaining clothes. His fingers drifted over her neck, feeling her rapid pulse beating there.

She opened her mouth to speak, but Clark quickly silenced her, pressing a fingertip to her lips.

"I guess I just can't get enough of you, Miss Lane," he said, fully embracing his role as _hers_ in this dream world. He ducked his head, pressing his mouth insistently to hers.

A sense of urgency overcame him, every moment he kissed her laced with an inevitable goodbye he knew would come. As if there was someone out there, his father likely, ready to pull him from sleep, pull him from her, and he had to savor every moment surrounded by her warmth, her scent, her love.

A moan escaped his throat as she matched him kiss for kiss. She always had been able to keep up with him in a way no other woman could, both in the bedroom and out. It was one of the things that had drawn him to her in the first place, and that kept him holding onto a memory long after the hope that they could be together had died.

He heard the flimsy fabric of her tank top tear as he began to tug at it, not even bothering to attempt to take it off the normal way. Besides, he knew better than anyone that Lois had a wild side, particularly when it came to him.

Suddenly he felt her warm hands pushing against his bare chest.

Ignoring her, he ran his tongue over her bottom lip, intent on distracting her.

She pushed harder, her head twisting to the side and he heard a muffled "Clark".

He pulled back, looking down at her.

"What?" he asked, his breathing heavy.

Her eyes roamed his face, almost searchingly he thought. He waited a moment, thinking she was going to speak, but his need for her soon won out over any attempt of patience.

"Lois? As gorgeous as you are, I'd much rather being _doing_ than looking," he said, his lips turned up in a grin as he leaned down, intent on kissing her senseless again.

To no avail, as Lois braced her hands between them, keeping him back.

He exhaled sharply as she continued to stare at him. Feeling like he was on borrowed time, he raised an eyebrow at her, knowing she could probably sense his impatience but not really caring.

"Did …anything happen last night?"

"No," he answered, hoping that was the end of it. He leaned down, planting soft kisses along the skin just above the edge of her tank top.

"I'm serious, Clark," she said. She gently stroked his hair, her nails teasingly scraping the skin at his neck, causing him to grind his hips against hers. "Any encounters with anything, well, red?"

"Red?" he mumbled, moving his attention to her neck, nipping at her skin lightly. "Can't say that I did. But I always did love you in red."

He heard her giggle almost breathlessly and smiled against the skin of her neck. She tugged on his hair and he moved back, then let himself be pulled down to her lips, moaning at the taste of her.

Wrapping his arms around her, he rolled onto his back, relishing the feel of her sprawled on top of him. She sat up, straddling his thighs, and he drank in the sight of her, her tank top torn a bit, riding up her waist, her long hair falling around her face in careless, messy waves.

"Red, huh? You and your primary colors."

His hands moved to her thighs, squeezing slightly. "Don't you remember the last time you wore red for me?" he asked, his tongue snaking out to wet his bottom lip as his eyes moved hungrily over her, the memory flashing vividly in his mind, as bittersweet as it was. One of the last times he'd been with her. Lionel had been out of town, making it much easier for him to get her into the mansion without dealing with the disapproving looks and pointed questions from his father. "That red baby doll nightie? I think it lasted two minutes before it was in shreds on my bedroom floor," he said, sitting up and moving his hands to start lifting off her tank top.

He heard her breathing pick up as he peppered kisses along her jaw. Growing impatient, he tore her tank top, tossing the two flimsy slips of fabric remaining to the side. His hands moved up her back, bringing her closer as his lips travelled down her neck. Her hands, resting on his shoulders, began to slide down, leaving a trail of fire on his skin.

"Um, Cl.. Clark?" he heard her say, almost gasping for breath as she pushed against his chest. "I'm sorry, I just remembered…I have to meet with a source this morning."

His only response was to press her even closer to him, before flipping them over, settling himself between her thighs, feeling his body respond to the feel of her warm skin against his.

"Cancel," he ordered, grabbing one hand and holding it above her head, intertwining their fingers.

"I can't."

He bowed his head, nuzzling her ear.

"I'm not letting you go again," he whispered, squeezing her hand.

It was starting, that feeling of dread, knowing the moment that his dream world ended would soon be upon him and he'd be yanked back into reality.

It didn't usually happen like this though.

A phone ringing jarring him from her arms and back into the arms of whatever random brunette he'd picked up the night before. His father's insistent knocking on his bedroom door, demanding his presence.

But not Lois wanting to leave him.

His fingers curled on her waist, grasping her more tightly, as if that would anchor him in this fantasy with her. He lifted his head in time to see her gazing at him.

"I'll make it up to you," she said softly, a hint of seductive promise in her voice. "Maybe I'll even hunt down a new red baby doll for you, okay?"

A frustrated sigh escaped his mouth as he rolled onto his back. He rubbed his eyes roughly, for the first time focusing on something other than her.

The white ceiling. The soft cream colored walls. The flimsy white curtains blowing in the morning breeze.

He propped himself up on his elbows, gazing around the room.

An old desk, piled with papers. The blue plaid comforter bunched down at the end of the bed. An old trophy, apparently for football.

He blinked quickly, attempting to focus. Usually, the dreams took place in familiar surroundings. His bedroom. His office. Lois' apartment. A supply closet at the Daily Planet – that was a new one, starting after running into Lois there several times when dropping something off for his sister.

But this place? He'd never been here before.

And for the first time, he began to wonder if this _was_ a dream. After all, it _was_ Smallville. He himself had arrived here by spaceship, and he'd certainly seen enough weird things go down in his life that the possibility certainly existed that something else was going on here.

Feeling her eyes on him, he turned to look at her.

"Uh, yeah. Sure. You go do what you gotta do."

She nodded, hopping out of the bed quickly, she snatched up a flannel shirt draped on the back of the chair and put it on. Opening the bottom dresser drawer, she took out a pair of jeans and flung them over her arm. She grabbed her phone off the nightstand and began walking toward the door.

With a burst of his superspeed, he was kneeling at the foot of the bed, his large hand wrapped around her wrist.

"But," he said, turning her toward him, his other hand tangling in her hair, "I'm holding you to your promise."

And he planted a hard kiss against her lips, his teeth tugging slightly at her bottom lip as he pulled away. While he wasn't sure what the hell was going on, if this wasn't some sleep induced fantasy? He would make sure that she'd fulfill her end of the deal.

She smiled. "Right," she said, her breathless tone causing a bump in his heart rate. "Later."

Within a few minutes, he heard a door slam and the sound of her car heading off to work.

Getting out of bed, he looked down, noting the plaid pajama bottoms with a look of distaste.

Not exactly his style.

He opened the bedroom door, following the long hallway and then jogging quickly down the stairs.

The kitchen was large. Bright. Open. Welcoming.

The antithesis of the Luthor mansion.

He walked over to the refrigerator, and stopped short a few feet from it.

Clark Luthor was not an easy man to shock. Being the adopted son of Lionel Luthor as well as being from another planet had the effect of making surprising him extremely difficult.

But his jaw dropped as he took in what was front of him.

One picture had him and Lois, his arm outstretched as if he was taking the picture with the camera himself. Smiling, her forehead rested against his cheek. They were happy. And clearly together.

The other, though. His mother, Martha, and him. But it was the man on the other side of him that knocked him back a few steps, hitting the large kitchen island behind him.

Because it wasn't Lionel Luthor.

It was Jonathan Kent, the local farmer his father had been trying to run out of town for years, no doubt due to the rumors of his mother's affection for him and the role that played in the end of their marriage.

His hand fell to the counter, where it encountered something rectangular, covered in plastic. Lifting it up, he saw a small photo of himself smiling back at him from a Daily Planet press badge.

_Clark Kent_.

Shaking his head slightly, as if to try and clear it, he pinched the bridge of his nose. He dropped the badge onto the counter, turning slowly and taking in every inch of the room surrounding him.

"What the hell?"


	4. Gravity

It seems almost fitting that it finally happened when I least expected it. On some random day when I hadn't even thought about it in a while.

I'd watched others do it, I'd questioned Jor-El about it, I'd endured mental trials to try and finally succeed at it.

But maybe that was the problem. I was trying too hard. A fact that Lois was only too eager to point out to me one night about a month ago.

"Look Smallville," she said, "you need to relax about the flying thing. It'll happen when it happens."

"It should have happened already," I mumbled in response, to which Lois rolled her eyes.

"Well then obviously, keep stressing out and dwelling on it. Because clearly that's getting you airborne faster."

Delivered with her characteristic smirk, of course. But that's what she does. Cuts to the chase of things and puts them in her Lois perspective and then, somehow, they make perfect sense.

So I took her advice. I stopped thinking about it. I stopped obsessing over it. Which, I can't lie, wasn't easy. I'm not all that great at letting things go. Of course, the absence of flying Kandorian clones helped, since it wasn't an ever present reminder of what I wasn't able to do.

I let gravity win, only defying it occasionally and momentarily for superjumps when needed. Relying on my speed for ground travel to get where I was needed.

And then, a few days ago, I was meeting with a source for a story I was working on just outside of Metropolis. Earlier that morning over the bearclaw I'd brought her for breakfast, Lois had casually mentioned she too had a meeting with a source for a new story. When I'd pressed for some details – Lois being nothing if not a magnet for danger so I've learned it never hurts to try and get some information on her solo ventures – she'd quickly choked down the rest of her coffee and tossed an 'It's my byline, Smallville' my way before rushing out of the Planet.

That should have been my first clue. As it was, I had my own work to do so I went off to do just that.

I'd just wrapped up and was heading back to the truck when I heard it. Heard her. She was trying to act tough, but I could hear it in her voice.

She was scared.

_It's a long way down, Miss Lane. But don't worry, you'll make the front page. Reporters jumping off buildings tend to get press._

I could hear her struggle, her heels scraping against cement as she fought for her life.

To be honest, I don't even remember what happened, how it happened. All I know is that I heard her terrified scream and seconds later, I had her safely in my arms.

"Clark?" she'd whispered.

"Don't worry, Lois. I've got you," I responded quietly, pulling her closer against me. She looked up at me, the fear slowly ebbing out of her hazel eyes, and then glanced over my shoulder. Her eyes widened, and then she smiled at me in a way that made my heart skip about twenty beats.

"What is it?" I asked.

"Smallville, you're flying," she gasped, her arms circling my neck, holding onto me tightly.

I stared at her for a moment before directing my gaze forward, fully processing what I must have known for the last few moments, even if I didn't consciously realize it.

I stared at the clouds, seemingly rushing to meet us. I looked below, seeing the patchwork squares of land zooming by. And then I looked back at her, seeing her bite the side of her lip, her eyes filled with pride and love, a look I've been lucky enough to see daily but still can't quite believe she's directing at me.

"I'm so saying I told you so, you know that right?"

I slowed us to a stop, hovering miles above the ground, before leaning down and kissing away the slight teeth marks she'd left on her lower lip.

"I wouldn't have it any other way, Lane."

And that's when I stopped believing in gravity.


	5. Harsh Revelation

_Clark Luthor_.

His head was still spinning from _that_ particular revelation. As if apparently being transported to an alternate universe and waking up in the Luthor mansion wasn't enough of a shock, finding out that, in this world, his spaceship had been found by Lionel Luthor had pretty much stunned him into silence.

Which probably worked to his advantage when Lionel had walked into the room and called him _son_. He'd managed to escape that confrontation without Lionel catching on, only nodding at what he assumed were appropriate points judging by the elder Luthor's pauses and pointed glances at him. He'd seemed satisfied enough with that, dismissing Clark with a wave of his hand.

Wasting no time, Clark quickly left the room, wanting only one thing.

To get out of there.

He needed to get his bearings, figure out what was going on.

More importantly, he had to figure out how to get home.

He knew the long hallways well, having been a frequent visitor there during both good and strained times throughout his relationship with Lex. Distracted, his heart racing at the implications of what was going on, he didn't even notice her until she was falling back from the impact of colliding into him.

"Hey, watch it!" she snapped.

His eyes widened as he instinctively reached to grab her.

A smile lit up his face, watching as, with a puff of air, she blew her bangs off her forehead.

"Lois," he whispered, immediately pulling her close and burying his face in her neck. He closed his eyes, the scent of her perfume surrounding him, grounding him in the first moment of clarity he'd had since he'd found himself in a nightmare.

He heard her breath catch, relaxing for a moment into his arms.

But only for a moment.

Suddenly, her hands pressed against his chest, he felt her pushing him back.

Surprised, he let her, his mouth dropping slightly in shock at the anger flashing her hazel eyes.

"Get the hell off me," she spat, giving him one last push for good measure. "What, trying to butter me up so I don't bury your father on the front page? Don't worry, this assignment is purely a punishment from your sister. I'm sure _anything_ negative in my copy will mysteriously disappear before it hits the presses."

Clark let out a sharp breath, his eyes narrowing in confusion, latching onto the one thing he could almost handle – which wasn't Lois' attitude towards him.

"My…sister?"

Oblivious to his shock, Lois continued, reorganizing some of her papers that had gotten shuffled a bit when they'd bumped into each other.

"Yeah, Tess got wind of the fact that I found a little dirt on your father's experiments at Cadmus Labs, and so she sent me here to do a puff piece on LuthorCorp's charity auction next week. Not that that will stop me from exposing what Lionel's really doing. Or you for that matter."

She began to brush by him, clearly done with him. Through the haze of panic and bewilderment, he managed to grab her hand as she walked past him, turning her back toward him.

He was rewarded with a glare that he was sure would kill a mere mortal on the spot.

"What the hell is with you today? You lost your right to touch me a long time ago," she snapped, trying to pull away from his grasp.

He only held onto her tighter.

"Wh…what?" he managed to stutter out in a choked whisper.

She rolled her eyes, frustration and fury evident in her features. "I don't have time for this, Clark. Let me go."

"I can't…"

She must have heard the desperation in his tone, because her expression softened, even if it was just from anger to bemusement. Her eyes roamed his face, and he felt her hand relax slightly in his grip.

"Well, if it isn't the lovely Miss Lane," Lionel's characteristically silky voice came from the doorway at the end of the hall. Clark watched as his gaze immediately fell to his and Lois' still joined hands. Looking back Clark, he chuckled in that way Clark knew meant that whatever was about to come out of his mouth wasn't funny, but was in actuality a very serious message.

"Now son, I doubt Mr. Queen would be happy to see you've taken an interest in his fiancée again."

The words hit him with a force that actually knocked him back a few steps, his hand loosening enough to allow Lois' hand to drop to her side.

And that's when he saw it. Glittering on her left hand. Breaking his heart into a million pieces. Of all the revelations that had been tossed at him since he'd found himself in the midst of this bad dream, this?

This was by far the harshest.

His eyes rose to meet hers, seeing, for the first time, the barest hint of concern, even compassion in their hazel depths.

"Miss Lane, I'm a busy man, so if you'll just follow me…"

"I need a minute with her," Clark said, managing to make his tone somewhat forceful despite his shock.

"Now son…"

"Mr. Luthor, no doubt the suck up questions your daughter _instructed_ me to ask you won't take very long. I'm sure you wouldn't mind waiting a minute or two while I speak to your son."

Lionel cleared his throat, obviously somewhat annoyed by Lois' dismissal. Clark saw the glare Lionel shot at her before turning a warning glance to him.

"I'll be in my office," he said, his voice dripping with courteousness Clark knew was fake. Lois watched Lionel go, waiting for the click of the door before whipping back around to face him.

"You wanna tell me why you look like a kid who just found out there's no Santa? Because this?" she said, holding up the hand adorned with a very large diamond, "Is hardly news to you."

He had the overwhelming urge to use his heat vision to pulverize the offending rock into tiny shards of crystal, forever erasing it from her hand. Raking frustrated fingers through his hair, he exhaled loudly, attempting to calm himself to the point he could actually find out what was going on.

And why everything was _so_ wrong.

"I just…I don't understand," he said, every syllable drowning in bewilderment.

"You don't understand? Are you kidding me?"

His jaw dropped at her fresh onslaught of anger. She stepped closer to him, so close that he could see the slightest hint of wetness in her eyes.

"You made your choice Clark. When you chose to let yourself become the number one suspect in the murder of my cousin, a murder we _both_ know you didn't commit. When you tried to stop me from getting justice for Chloe at every turn to cover for that monster," she snarled, gesturing her head toward the closed door of Lionel's office. "When you chose to protect your bastard father over loving me, you gave up on us."

She angrily wiped at her face, a single tear having escaped despite her best attempts to hold them back. He watched as she backed away in stunned silence, processing the tirade she'd just laid on him.

"I would have stood by you," she said quietly, her voice shaking with emotion. "But I guess the joke was on me, huh? Falling for a Luthor. A mistake I don't intend to make ever again."

She turned, knocking on Lionel's office door, and disappearing quickly inside. He stared at the spot she'd just left, stumbling back a bit until his back hit the wall. Sliding down slowly, his face fell into his hands, a strangled gasp escaping his throat.

This wasn't an alternate universe.

This was hell.


	6. Once Upon a December

It had been such a whirlwind couple of days, Clark didn't realize what his fiancée had around her neck until the minute she had trouble undoing the clasp and taking it off.

He couldn't be blamed, really. His mother returning, speaking out for heroes and getting shot in the process by a young clone of Lex Luthor, the VRA vote, not to mention his own feelings of hopelessness he was wrestling with.

So he could be forgiven for not noticing the new, or rather old, necklace Lois was now wearing.

"Thanks," he heard her say, turning toward him as he held the necklace in his hand.

He remembered the last time he'd touched this particular piece of jewelry.

The first Christmas after his dad had died.

Oh, he'd seen it since then, albeit far less than he had before. But it was that night he'd learned the story behind it from his still newly grieving mother.

_The happy, sparkling Christmas lights were at odds with the mood in the house. Clark had noticed that straight away when they'd finally gotten around to putting the tree up and trimming it. _

_But his mother had insisted. Even only a few weeks after his father's death. She wanted things to be normal. Or, as normal as they could be under the circumstances._

_He was standing in the archway between the kitchen and the living room. Sad eyes watching her every movement, trying desperately to think of a way he could make it better, yet knowing he never really could._

_Shaking hands struggled with a tiny clasp. A sigh of exasperation. A tear falling down a flushed from frustration cheek._

"_Mom?"_

_She turned quickly, plastering an attempt at a bright smile on her face. That was the norm lately, her trying to appear alright for him. Fake smiles not quite overshadowing the grief._

"_Oh, hi honey."_

"_You okay?"_

_She shrugged, not meeting his eyes. "I was never very good at these clasps," she sighed._

_Silence met her words, the unspoken thought between them that she hadn't had much practice with them. That was his father's job._

_He walked over to her, gently taking the necklace from her hand. Moving behind her, he lifted the necklace over her head, giving her a moment to move her hair out of the way, and fastened the clasp._

"_There you go," he said quietly._

_She turned to face him, a tremulous smile on her lips as her fingers found the small heart hanging from the chain._

"_Did I ever tell you about this necklace?"_

_He shook his head. Nodding, his mother led him to the couch._

"_Your grandmother gave it to me. Grandma Kent."_

_She smiled slightly, seemingly lost in a memory for a moment. Clark simply squeezed her hand._

"_When I first came out here, I was so nervous. I didn't know what your grandmother would think of me, your father had warned me she was very particular. I had myself convinced she had her hopes pinned on a sweet country girl for your father, not some city girl like me."_

_Clark shook his head slightly at that, the barest hint of a grin on his face._

"_What?"_

"_I just can't believe…I don't know, you're always so confident. It's hard to believe you were so worried about meeting Grandma."_

"_Clark, someday, when you decide to spend your life with someone, you'll feel the same way meeting her family."_

_He opened his mouth, about to jump in and say it wouldn't be an issue, after all, Lana had little family to speak of, but, for some reason, the words didn't come out. _

_And he wasn't sure why. He didn't have much time to consider the question, though, because his mother continued with her memory._

"_On our wedding day, she gave me this, and she told me she couldn't measure how happy your father had been since she'd met me," she paused, twisting the necklace in her fingers lightly. "And that meant the world to me."_

"Clark?" Lois said, holding out her hand for the necklace still draped over his hand.

He looked at her for a moment, his eyebrow quirked questioningly, until he noticed her glance shift to his hand.

"Oh, right," he mumbled, handing her the necklace.

"Thanks," she said, walking over to the jewelry box that held precious little jewelry. She didn't have that much, and there she only kept what was special to her. "Are you okay?"

"Yeah," he said, "I just haven't seen that necklace in a while."

She looked confused for a moment, then her eyes widened slightly. "I forgot to tell you your mom gave it to me," she said with sudden understanding.

His lips quirked up into a grin. "There_ has_ been a lot going on."

"True."

Sitting down on their bed, he pulled her free hand so she was beside him.

"Did your mom wear it a lot? I have to say, I don't remember seeing it."

He shrugged. "Not really, at least in the last few years. Holidays, mostly. When I was younger, I remember her wearing it more. Before my dad died."

Looking down at their joined hands, she ran her thumb over his tenderly. "It reminded her of him."

"Yeah. Don't get me wrong, it was still special to her. Sometimes I'd catch her looking at it when she didn't know I was there."

Lois nodded. "Can I tell you something? It sounds silly but, I was really nervous to see your mom."

"Why?"

"Because, this is the first time she's been home since we've been engaged."

"She was home last year when we were dating," he paused, noticing Lois' quirked eyebrow. "Sort of," he amended. "And she's known you for years, Lois. You lived here for a while, remember?"

"It's so different, Clark. Then, I was your friend, the girl living here, whatever. And even last year, yeah, I was your girlfriend. Sort of," she said with a small grin. "But now, I'm the woman you're marrying. That's intimidating to any potential daughter-in-law. Add in that your mom is the probably the coolest mom I've ever met? I just wanted to make a good impression, for her to see that you weren't making a mistake by marrying me."

"She would never think that. She loves you."

"I know she does. Still, the stakes are a little bit different given the circumstances. But the necklace?," she continued, "It helped."

"So, she told you about when my grandmother gave it to her?"

"Yeah, she did."

He reached up, tucking a lock of hair behind her ear. "It's fitting she gave it to you. Because I've never been as happy as I am with you, Lois."

Smiling, she leaned over, pressing a gentle kiss to his lips.

"I know it probably seems silly to you. It's not like I just met your mom."

He tilted his head slightly to look at her. "I don't know that silly is the right word. I guess it's the same feeling I had when my mom told me about the necklace, and how she was so nervous that my grandmother wouldn't approve of her. I couldn't understand it. I mean, how could anyone not love my mom, and not see how much my dad loved her?"

"Parents can be tricky, Smallville. Especially future in-laws."

"And I didn't realize that, realize what she'd gone through, until your dad visited. Really, that was the first time I'd ever been in that situation, dealing with my girlfriend's parents."

"Lana's parents died," Lois nodded in agreement.

"And Nell was never around once we started dating. But even then, I don't think it would have been that big of a deal. But with you, with your dad? Let's just say I never felt as nervous as I did when I asked him for his blessing to marry you."

"The General can be intimidating. Doubly so, when you think about everything that happened that day."

"It was a little easier when he admitted that everything he put me through was really a test for you, not me."

She bristled slightly. "Yeah, that bit of information put a whole lot of years in perspective."

He chuckled at that, brushing back a lock of hair behind her ear.

"Can I ask you something?"

"Sure," he replied.

"What would you have done if he'd said no?" she asked.

He smiled, leaning in and briefly brushing his lips against hers.

"I would have asked you to marry me."

"Wow," she said with a grin. "Defying the General? That's pretty hot, Smallville."

"Yeah, well no matter how much I wanted him to like me, for your sake really, nothing was going to stop me from asking you to marry me."

He paused for a moment, taking the necklace from her hand, a wistful smile on his handsome face.

"And as much as my mom wanted my grandmother's approval, it wouldn't have stopped my dad either.


	7. Better Left Unsaid

"Lois, it's me. Look, I know you're really busy packing for Kenya but please, before you leave, I…I need to talk to you. Just…call me when you get this."

Clark snapped the phone shut in frustration. That? Was the seventh message he'd left on her phone in the last 12 hours. Since he'd woken up (from the dead apparently) and realized that he was still on Earth and wasn't leaving anytime soon, he'd been alternately trying to reach her and getting updates from a frantic Chloe on Oliver's mysterious disappearance.

See, the thing was, now he had a problem.

Because yesterday, when he thought that he'd be leaving the planet forever, he'd told Lois to go to Africa. And it hadn't been easy, even though rationally, he knew he wasn't going to be around, but _she_ didn't know that, and the hurt had been crystal clear in her eyes as he'd insisted she'd leave him, leave _them_, for a job.

There was a simple answer, of course. He could tell her the truth. And he _wanted_ to tell her the truth. He'd actually wanted to for a long time now.

But, he knew if he told her, she'd stay. And while, yes, that was what he wanted, there was a part of him that felt, in a sense, he'd be almost pressuring her into staying.

Which wasn't fair to her. This job, this opportunity, was an amazing one for her. She'd told him yesterday he was more important to her, and he believed that, it was just that so many times in his life he'd felt like the desire to tell his secret came from a place of desperation.

It was something he didn't want for them. She was different. And so were they.

He sighed loudly, wiping a hand roughly over his tired face.

So that left him in somewhat of a quandary as to how to handle everything. To let her know he didn't want her to go without unloading his secret on her to get her to stay.

"_When you see her Clark, your heart will know what to do."_

His mother's advice rang through his ears, having called her earlier this morning to let her know her son was still, in fact, Earthbound.

He was about to flip open his phone to try calling her yet again when he heard the sound of a car pulling up to the house.

"I hope you're right, Mom," he mumbled softly. He walked toward the door, unable to wait even a few moments to see her after believing less than a day ago that he'd never see her again, pulling it open just as she slammed her car door shut. Her hair fell loosely around her face, her eyes focused on that damn pink phone. He wasn't sure how an inanimate object could frustrate him to the point of madness, but her phone had managed to do it in the span of the last couple of months.

She began walking toward the house, finally lifting her head and stopping short at seeing him standing in the doorway.

"Hey," he called out, opening the door a bit wider as he leaned against the frame.

"Hey," she called back, resuming her movement toward the house and lifting up her phone. "I got your messages. All of them," she said, a slight smirk on her face. "I didn't call you back because I was on my way here anyway."

"Right," he said, knowing as she walked past him into the house that trying to calm his racing heart was probably a futile effort.

He allowed himself a moment to just _look_ at her. He figured he deserved it, given that it wasn't a day ago he thought he'd never lay eyes on her again. Dark chocolate brown hair falling in loose waves around her face, brow furrowed in concentration as she looked at her phone, her teeth absently gnawing at her bottom lip.

He'd been ready to save the planet, ready to leave it to protect this place he called home. It was a choice he'd make again in a heartbeat given the same circumstances and no other way out.

But that didn't mean it hadn't torn him up. And standing before him was one of the biggest reasons.

Never seeing her again, the thought had devastated him. After he'd impulsively kissed her in the alley, he'd stayed behind a few extra fleeting moments, taking in every inch of her face, committing it to memory for the long and lonely forever ahead of him.

Suddenly, standing in his kitchen and watching her delete messages on her phone, he knew that no matter what, it would be okay. Because the job in Kenya? It wasn't like the forever he'd faced only hours earlier.

They'd make it work. And he knew what to do, just like his mother had said he would.

"Sorry," her voice brought him out of his thoughts, "just deleting the 982 voicemails you left me," she finished with a grin.

"I just wanted to make sure I caught you before you left," he said, taking a step toward her.

"Clark…"

"Wait, Lois, I need to say this, okay?"

"No Clark, really…"

"Lois, please? Let me just say what I have to say."

She quirked an eyebrow at him, then sighed softly, gesturing for him to continue.

He took a deep breath. "Okay, look, I know that I said that you should go to Kenya, and I meant it. It's an amazing opportunity," he paused, moving still closer to her, reaching out and tangling his fingers with hers. "But, I also want you to know that I want this. Us. I really want this to work. And I'll be waiting here, when you come home."

Rubbing his thumb over the back of her hand, he watched as she took in his words, the softest of smiles gracing her face.

"I want this to work too," she responded quietly. "About the job, though. I actually turned it down."

He blinked quickly a few times at that, surprise suffusing his features.

"What? Why? Not that I'm not happy that you're staying, because believe me, I am, but, Lois, this is a once in a lifetime job offer."

"And my career is important to me, but like I said yesterday, you're more important."

He swallowed thickly at that, the emotion welling up inside him just as it had when she'd said it the day before.

Clark wanted to take what she'd said and run with it. Wanted to smile happily and accept it. But see, Lois was, well _Lois_. She was driven, and he knew, as he'd once said to her, he'd have to share her with the world. Their relationship, even going back to their "just friends" days, had always been one where he'd felt, well, _free_. Which was ironic, given the massive secret he was keeping from her. And while, yes, that weighed on him, there was always a level of comfort with Lois, of trust and ease that he just never had with anyone else. She helped him, even unknowingly on her part, by just allowing him to be _him_ and do what he had to do, no questions asked – even though he knew sometimes it killed her _not_ to ask.

And he wanted to do the same for her, _ be _the same for her. He couldn't stand the thought that, somehow, he'd be holding her back.

"I just…I don't want you to resent me. Down the road, when you look back and you realize you had this chance…"

"Clark, turning down Perry's offer wasn't just for you, it was for me too. It wasn't what I wanted. What I want? It's here, with you and my job at the Planet."

He couldn't stop the enormous smile that broke out on his face. Impulsively, he grabbed her, wrapping his arms around her and pulling her close. Feeling her breath against his neck, he breathed in the sweet vanilla scent of her hair, one hand stroking her back lightly while the other was anchored around her waist.

She was staying. With him.

And he knew. In that moment, he knew he didn't want to wait anymore. If she was staying, then she needed to know.

No. He _wanted_ her to know.

That thought alone made him feel like a two ton weight had been lifted from his shoulders. He pulled back, noting the slightly surprised grin on her face at his impetuous show of relief and affection. Grabbing her hand, he quickly led her over to the sofa, pulling her down to sit beside him.

"What's going on?"

He took her in, hazel eyes as always inquisitive, sparkling with a passion that was just so _her_, had always been her.

In truth, this wouldn't be the first time he'd told her. Of course, Legion rings and mindwipes had taken his secret from her memory in those instances. And judging from her demeanor currently, she hadn't figured it out from his kiss in the alley. A pang of disappointment hit him at that, somewhere deep inside of him. Even if it wasn't a conscious choice, now that he'd stayed, there was part of him that had hoped she'd figured it out from his kiss. Perhaps it was somewhat selfish of him to want that – Lois figuring it out would have made this confessional a bit easier to be sure, instead of him weighing the words he would use to tell her the secret he'd kept tightly locked up for so long.

However, this would be the first time he'd tell her after having been in a serious relationship with her for eight months. And that? That was more than a little daunting.

How do you tell the woman you love, the woman you want to spend your life with, that you've been lying to her for the eight months of your serious romantic relationship, secretly leading a double life as Metropolis' greatest hero all the while carrying on phone conversations with her as said alter ego?

He took a deep breath, noting how her head had tilted to the side, as if often did when she was trying to figure him out.

Maybe it was like taking off a band-aid. Rip it off. Quick. It might hurt at first but once it was off, the pain could be dealt with and eventually the wound would heal and life would go on.

"Smallville?"

He gently squeezed the hand he was still holding, taking a deep breath before saying, "Lois, there's…there's something I want to tell you. And there's really no preparing someone for this so, I'm just gonna say it. Lois…,"

"Wait, Clark," she interrupted, her eyes wide as she raised her free hand, motioning for him to stop.

But he wasn't going to be deterred. Not this time.

"Lois, just let me finish…," he continued, his voice rising slightly in volume.

"I'm still leaving," she practically yelled, and if he didn't know better, he'd say there was almost a franticness in her tone. But he didn't dwell on that long because her words hit him like a ton of kryptonite had just been heaped onto his chest.

She must have noticed what he was sure was a completely stricken look on his face because she rushed to continue.

"Sorry, that didn't come out quite the way I wanted it to," she said, a nervous smile flitting across her lips. "I didn't take the job in Kenya, but as coincidence would have it, the Planet is sending me to Egypt on assignment."

If it was possible to feel one's heart physically drop, Clark did in that moment. That figurative band-aid had just been slapped firmly back into place.

"It's only temporary though, a week or two tops. I'm leaving tonight, the Planet's sending a car for me in a few hours."

He felt his tightened chest loosen a bit at that, though he was surprised to feel a wave of disappointment.

He couldn't tell her. Not now. This was not a bombshell to be dropped before she headed off on a marathon plane ride.

Maybe that disappointment only confirmed what he'd been almost sure of recently. He was _ready_ to tell her.

But for now, with a marathon plane ride looming in her future, and at least a week if not more of physical separation, some things were better left unsaid.

"So," she continued after a pause, "whatever you wanted to tell me…"

"Can wait," he interjected softly.

"You sure?"

"Yeah, I'm sure. We'll talk when you get back."

"Okay," she said. "I better get going. My suitcase isn't going to pack itself."

He stood along with her, reaching out and tucking a lock of hair behind her ear.

"Be careful."

She reached up and grasped his hand, bringing it to her lips and kissing his knuckles softly.

"You too," she said quietly, her eyes meeting his and, for a moment, the intensity of her gaze, the way she clutched his hand, whispered at him.

_Did she know?_

But just as suddenly as the moment had come, it was gone, and she dropped his hand, sending him a bright smile.

"I mean, I won't be here to get you out of any jams for a couple of weeks," she said lightly.

"Right," he responded, returning her smile. "What am I gonna do without you?"

"Be bored, no doubt."

Clark simply nodded in agreement, stepping closer to her. He framed her face with his hands, leaning down and pressing the softest of kisses against her lips. A kiss so different than the passionate goodbye of yesterday, where he'd felt he had no hope of seeing her again.

With this kiss, he felt the promise of their future instead of the desperation of goodbye.


	8. End of the Beginning

Clark Kent divided his relationships with the important people in his life into two parts.

The beginning. And the rest of the story, for lack of a better term.

The beginning had always been his favorite time in his relationship. It featured more carefree times, for the most part. The people in his life, they only knew Clark, and as such, only had expectations of Clark – the sweet, charming farmboy turned reporter.

He marked the end of the beginnings with these people as the day he knew they knew his secret. It was carefully delineated in his mind that way, since for the most part, everyone that knew had found out before he told them, but didn't tell _him _they knew.

But the moment the knowledge of his alien origins and his superpowers, and now, his alter ego was a two way street? That was the moment the beginning ended for him and the rest of the story began.

In his experience, the rest of the story hadn't always been as wonderful as the beginning. The people in his life, they changed when they found out who he was. His relationships with them changed, and not really for the better.

With Chloe, the rest of the story had featured a woman struggling with power and control, and a relationship that had changed from a deep friendship to a more professional one. Chloe had been consumed by the world of heroes and his heroism specifically. There were times, he felt, that Clark Kent had ceased to exist in her world.

With Pete, the burden of carrying such a huge secret took a toll on their friendship, eventually ending in Pete moving away. Now, it was maybe a once a year phone call, if that, that was the extent of his contact with his former best friend.

With Lana, an obsession with power – seeing that as the only way to be his equal – had been born. It had culminated in her becoming literal poison to him, being infected by meteor rock. Outside of Chloe mentioning her whereabouts when she came across her at Watchtower, that was pretty much all he knew of his former childhood sweetheart.

There were other examples, other relationships that had changed the moment the beginning ended. Sure, some of them changed over time, but he could always go back to that one moment. Rationally, logically, he knew it wasn't his fault, nor the fault of his secret. He knew, when he allowed himself clear thought outside of his emotions, that the choices these people made after learning his secret were theirs and theirs alone.

But that didn't mean the facts, the changes, didn't color his perception of his secret and revealing it to the people closest to him.

One person in particular.

He'd thought about telling Lois for a while, getting to the point of seriously considering it in recent weeks. But something always came up. Lois herself stopping him, then they broke up, and then he'd thought he was leaving the planet forever with the Kandorians. He couldn't bring himself to hurt her by telling her everything only to have to leave her.

In the darkness of the alley, though, he simply couldn't resist. He'd seen her hold out the Book of Rao to him, still a shadowed figure in the dark. He'd reached out for it, grasping her hand more than the object itself, and spun her to him, watching as even then, she refused to open her eyes, still trying to protect his secret.

A split second later, his lips were on hers. And he knew that in that kiss he was telling her everything, including goodbye.

Because that was the thing. It _was_ goodbye for all he knew. He wasn't going to be around for the fallout. For the rest of the story.

As he fell to Earth, a blue dagger jutting from his stomach, he remembered the feel of her lips against his. Her smile. Her laugh. Her heart.

To him, it was still their beginning.

Except, then he opened his eyes, sunlight streaming through his window at the farm. Blinking rapidly a few times, he racked his brain, trying desperately to remember what had happened, why he was alive when last he remembered, he was plummeting to his death.

That train of thought stopped when he realized the air he was breathing in had the faintest scent of vanilla spice, that a gentle hand rested against his chest, now healed from where the dagger had slashed him. Soft, rhythmic breathing filled his ears.

He shifted slightly, unintentionally jarring her into wakefulness. She lifted her head, groggily rubbing at her eyes until she noticed his staring back at her.

Her face broke into a heart stopping smile as she leaned toward him, grabbing him in a tight hug.

"You're back," she whispered, and his mind immediately went back to a similar hug, a similar phrase said at the Daily Planet. He'd told her that that was the moment he knew she was the one he'd always needed.

As he wrapped his own arms around her, his face burrowing into her soft brown locks, he smiled into the warm skin of her neck.

One day, years from now, he'd tell her this moment was the end of their beginning.

And the moment he knew he couldn't wait for the rest of their story.


	9. Acid Tears

And you thought Kryptonite was the only thing that could hurt you.

Little did you know, the tears of a smart-mouthed, loud, bossy reporter would burn you like acid burned through the strongest of metals.

She's in your arms, her heart broken after saying goodbye to a man who, quite frankly, never deserved her in your opinion. Not that you'd ever admit that to her, or anyone else for that matter.

You hear her sniffles against your jacket, her attempt at breaking the somber mood by joking that she doesn't need hot, rich, and famous when she has you, and you smile, because that's who she is. No doubt she's annoyed at herself for the tears falling, for allowing herself to be vulnerable to anyone, let alone you, and so out comes the snark in an attempt to pull herself together.

But, you notice, her hands curl tighter into your jacket, her head still resting comfortably against your chest. And so you rub her back gently, an attempt to soothe her broken heart.

You try not to think too deeply on it, on the fact that her tears affect you so much. But it occurs to you that maybe it's because she's never one to allow those tears to fall if she can help it. Ever the General's daughter, she buries her emotions with the best of them.

You hear another sniffle, a slight hiccup as she burrows her head further into your jacket, and you think back to the first time you met her. Well, the first time you met her in your right mind. She'd been crying then, too, only then she'd jumped up defensively, wiping at her eyes and refusing to let you see her perceived weakness, moving instantly to the teasing banter they'd come to perfect over the years.

It's at that moment you truly understand. She's let you in. She's let you see her at her most vulnerable, let you comfort her.

Your arms instinctively pull her a bit closer, the knowledge that she's entrusting you to care for her not something you take lightly.

As you feel a fresh stream of tears seep through your jacket and your hand moves up to stroke her hair, you realize that for all your superpowers, the one you wish for more than anything in this moment is the power to stop her tears from falling.


End file.
